


A Darker Love

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Bunnies that went nowhere, Incompletes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The magical world's pureblood population have always been very cautious with whom they married and created offspring. But once in awhile, something unusual slips through the cracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Darker Love

**Title:** A Darker Love  
  
**Author:** Rowaine (rowained@yahoo.com)  
  
**Rating:** NC-17, per instructions. Starts off a pale PG, but will soon join the ranks of pr0n.  
  
**Summary:** The magical world's pureblood population have always been very cautious with whom they married and created offspring. But once in awhile, something unusual slips through the cracks.  
  
**Warnings:** Sexual Content, Adult Language, Character Death, OOC-ness, Spoilers  
  
**Genre:** Romance, Humor, Drama, Supernatural, AU(Alternate Universe), Who Knows, Smut (Sorry Ahou, I'm not that comfortable writing angsty stuff.)  
  
**Pairings:** SS/HP primarily, but others may intrude.  
  
**Setting:** AU, After the Final Battle, Ignores Book 5 up   
  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me except for the questionable plot. Oh yeah, it's someone else's bunny... so maybe not even the plot is mine. Guess I'm without plot. I have lost the plot. I am thoroughly plotless. Donate to the **Plot Deficient Writer's Fund**!  
  
  
_Prologue : Darkness Falls_  
  
The last thing he remembered clearly was being surrounded by the killer green spell-light of a dozen Avada Kedavra's simultaneously cast.   
  
His position had been perfect : one step behind and to the left of the Dark Lord. His self-satisfied smirk was taken by his fellow Death Eaters as pride in his promotion, and he would hardly disabuse them of their delusion. In truth, he felt more vindicated than proud, by the simple fact that his rise in power had thrown Lucius 'the Great Prig' Malfoy down a notch. The look on the haughty blond's face was well worth whatever anxiety he'd had over the whole insane plan.  
  
When Albus had first come to him with 'the perfect plan, my boy!', Severus allowed himself a second's worth of shuddering fear. It would do no good for him to object, voice an opinion, or offer suggestions. No, once the barmy old coot had an idea lodged in his candy-riddled brain, there was no way to talk sense into him. And so, regardless of his own numerous reservations, Severus marched the boy off Hogwarts grounds, zapped him with a mild stunning spell, and handed him over to Voldemort. That he received the tiniest bit of pleasure from the insolent snot's outraged expression, well, the gods would forgive him for that. Surely.  
  
Tossing Potter on the ground at the Dark Lord's feet, Severus bowed deep and deferentially lowered his eyes. "My Lord, I pray you will accept this gift from your humble servant." With that, he remained kneeling at the serpentine wizard's throne, his mental shields firmly in place. Everything hinged on Voldemort's reaction.  
  
He hadn't waited long for his judgment.   
  
"Oh Severus, what a treasure you are! Not at all the traitor some of your contemporaries would make you out to be, eh?" Clawed fingers beckoned him closer, and a scaled hand landed lightly on his right shoulder. "You have taken a great risk for me, Severus, but the outcome is well worth it."   
  
Glimmering red eyes lifted from the bowed figure, scanning the hall of his followers. "Behold, brothers and sisters! Tonight we will see the destruction of our opponents' figurehead. The _beloved Boy-Who-Lived_ , brought to us by none other than Severus Snape." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the applause stroke his ego for several long moments. "As reward for his efforts, Severus will henceforth stand at my side."   
  
Pettigrew and Malfoy shared a glance behind the Dark Lord's back, each wondering which of them was to be replaced; no love would be lost between them. As with any of the Death Eaters, power and position mattered far more than ties of friendship and family. Their eyes shot forward as their Master offered his hand to help Snape to his feet.  
  
"I believe you would be better suited going back to your Ministry intrigues, Lucius. Do move along now, and let Severus get used to his improved circumstances." Voldemort waved his hand in dismissal at the glowering blond, not seeing the daggers of hatred aimed at his new favorite. But Severus saw, and carefully made note of his _friend_ 's temper.  
  
As the Dark Lord began his annual "Death to Harry Potter" speech, Severus tapped his wand against his leg. To the casual observer it would seem a simple gesture of anticipation, yet in reality he had activated the homing portkey for the Order to focus on. He then aimed a narrow line of thought at his captive student. _Potter, we only have to hold on for another fifteen minutes. As soon as Albus arrives, I shall unshrink your wand and that ridiculous sword-_  
  
_And since I'm just laying here all comfy, it'll be a walk in the park to catch them, right?_  
  
Merlin's beard! Even in his mind, the Potter brat whined about everything. _I think you shall find that the Headmaster's appearance will create sufficient chaos to allow you the opportunity to retrieve your belongings. Now, unless you have other pressing issues upon which to complain, let us return our focus to our target for this evening._ He paused, waiting until he had the boy's undivided attention. _Can you possibly handle such complicated instructions, Mr Potter?_  
  
A soft grunt came from the figure spellbound on the floor, with a louder sound of contempt directed through their thoughts. Severus correctly guessed that there would be no further need for communication, gratefully closing the tenuous link with his most tiring pupil. _Nearly a former pupil, this close to end of term. Not that it matters now. I should throw a private, one-man party when this mess is finished. Perhaps retire to a small coastal town, open one of those trendy salon and spa boutiques, hire a half dozen attractive young people to run the place for me. Ah, the possibilities!_  
  
With half an ear on the Dark Lord's ramblings, Severus contented himself with fantasies of a Potter-free life. A life with no babysitting responsibilities. Perhaps he could even find a lusty wench (or wizard) and settle down. He hadn't dared to hope for such things with the constant threat of Voldemort, but if tonight was the end...  
  
The small copper coin in his pocket flared with heat, indicating that Albus and the Order were on their way. He sent a sharp look at the boy, slowly withdrew the two shrunken objects from his pocket, and resized them as the first pops of Apparation echoed through the Dark Lord's audience chamber. A single swish of his wand released Potter, whose first move was to raise his hands to receive wand and sword. _Maybe the nuisance isn't a complete imbecile after all._   
  
Even after having played a large part in the boy's private training, Severus was surprised with how smoothly he moved. Tuck and roll out of his former position, ending up right beside the petrified form of Pettigrew. Two heartbeats later, Albus was in place as well, directly in front of the Dark Lord. Between them, they formed a triangle of Light magic that, once activated with an ancient spell dug up from who knew where, fully bound the formerly human soul of Tom Riddle into his current body.   
  
Screams and shouts surrounded the four wizards as Order members quickly disabled the Dark wizards and witches. Champions for the Light used binding or paralyzing spells, the vibrant yellows and oranges illuminating the dismally dark chamber. Only a small handful of Death Eaters managed to cast at all, and yet the only spells to leave their lips were the more damaging Unforgivables, Crucio and Avada Kedavra.   
  
Voldemort, self-styled Dark Lord, threw every last bit of his power into drawing massive amounts of magic from his followers through their Marks, in the hope that it would reverse or negate the awesome pain being inflicted upon him. Both gnarled hands grasped his throat as if he was choking -- which, from a bystander's point of view, he might well have been. His access to the Dark Mark was closed, blocked off as if it had never been there at all.   
  
As close to panic as he'd ever been, he jumped off to his right to make a quick escape. Directly into the path of Godric Gryffindor's sword, held by none other than Harry Potter. A series of triggered spells went off at the first touch of skin to cold metal, and within less than a minute, the man born as Tom Marvolo Riddle fell to his knees. Dumbledore's protective charms forbade him from fighting the disintegration of his latest body. From within his pocket, Snape pulled out a flask of his fastest poison, watching in great satisfaction as it ate through the Dark Lord's reptilian flesh, down through bone and muscle, dissolving him inch by steaming inch. Finally, Potter grabbed his nemesis' wand and snapped it in two, then raised his own. Three simple words, softly spoken, drew attention from every conscious person in the room.  
  
" _Descendo abire Morboniam_ *."  
  
Brilliant green light flared all around, blinding Severus even as his body fell lax onto the ground.

~ * ~

 _Chapter One : Swimming Free of Darkness_  
  
For as long as he could recall, Severus had never experienced vivid or memorable dreams. The very few times he woke feeling as if he'd had one, the sensation was fleeting at best, and he pushed it aside in lieu of more important matters.  
  
Laying in the teachers' wing of Hogwarts Infirmary, his contrary consciousness decided that now was a grand time to alter the normal protocol. Swirls of jewel-toned colors danced across his mind, accompanied by delicious scents and the sweetest music he'd ever heard. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the richness presented for his benefit. What was worse, his long frozen heart gave a great, heaving shudder as it broke through the multiple layers of insulating ice he'd spent years developing for protection.  
  
Potion after potion was poured down his throat, keeping him in a state of partial awareness. He found it quite frustrating not to be allowed the gentle comfort of oblivion, but what could he do? Severus acknowledged his current location, accepted that he had somehow been injured in the final battle, and begrudgingly allowed that there was no better place for him to seek medical attention. Poppy was a strict mediwitch, but her skill was without compare. That he could itemize such things as his surroundings gave him hope for a speedy recovery.  
  
Floating along on deep purple and crimson clouds, he barely felt the passage of time. Hours, days, weeks... what did they matter? He was secure within the bosom of his heart-home; the castle's thick walls and ancient magics would shelter him from any storm. Deep down in his psyche, Severus knew his calm acceptance to be caused by a potent cocktail mix of potions, but he couldn't seem to care. He was still alive, ergo there would be plenty of time to wreck havoc on the hospital matron, Albus, and anyone else responsible for his insensate status. Later. Later was just fine. 

~ * ~

  
He woke up hungry, fully aware, and rather cranky at being forced into a hospital gown. Dark eyes opened slowly to re-familiarize his retinae to the glaring sunlight coming through the nearby windows. Almost as visually traumatic was the wizard sitting at his bedside. Or rather, the wizard's hideous robes.  
  
"Albus," he croaked, his throat raspy with disuse. There was only one wizard with large enough bollocks (or little enough fashion sense) to wear _that_. A lime green mass heavily sprinkled with rainbow colored stars and comets, topped by a silver blob of... something. He knew what it was supposed to be, but couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
"Hush, my boy, don't try to talk just yet. Let's get you sitting upright where you can have a few sips of water, and I'll tell you what has happened in the past two weeks."  
  
Severus found that he couldn't quite grasp the glass that was offered to him. He hissed in frustration, earning a raised eyebrow from his employer. The goblet made its way to his lips and cool liquid relief coated his parched tongue. Albus' other eyebrow joined the first when his Potions Master literally purred in pleasure.  
  
Taking a quick breath to compose himself -- for Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore was never unnerved by such simple things as odd sound effects from an unexpected source -- the wizened wizard refilled his friend's goblet and began his tale.  
  
"If memory serves, you lost consciousness at approximately the same time that Voldemort's body collapsed in on itself. A most disturbing sight, I must say." He tipped the glass to Severus' lips again, making him slowly sip the water. "We must wait until Poppy clears you to leave the Infirmary, of course, but I suspect you will enjoy watching the full scene play out in my penseive. But for now, a synopsis of the events will suffice, no doubt."  
  
Severus coughed softly to test his throat, then scolded, "Just get on with it, Albus. Some of us aren't getting any younger."  
  
The Headmaster chuckled and nodded. "Yes, of course, we would hardly want you to develop grey hairs while you waited for me to get to the point, hmm?" A weak glare earned another dry chuckle. "Ah well, on we go. As Voldemort's body disintegrated, _melted_ rather, every Marked witch or wizard fell into a comatose state. As you might imagine, this made apprehending the unknown Death Eaters quite easy for our troops, and even the Minister could not deny the Marks on half his staff when they collapsed during a meeting with the Wizengamot."  
  
Severus' startled laughter joined the older man's, both imagining Fudge's discomfiture.   
  
"There is, I fear, one other matter that should be discussed prior to your release, Severus." Albus' voice was slow and heavy, the ever-present twinkle missing from his eyes. "When Voldemort was destroyed, a... magical surge of sorts occurred all across Great Britain. The reserves of power he had accumulated from each of his Marked followers was released all at once. Including those who predeceased him. It's a bit strange, don't you think, that the stolen power did not return to our world's magic pool."  
  
At that point, the old man silently summoned a tray of tea and sandwiches. Severus gave in with ill grace, fumbling for a triangle of roast beef and cheddar with hands that were only marginally more stable.  
  
Satisfied by his favorite 'son' would continue to eat once begun, Albus continued, "Naturally, this excess had to go somewhere. Harry, with his curse scar acting as a focus, ended up with over half of the surplus energy. The remaining part was absorbed -- and I'm not sure how you will take this, nor do I have any explanations for it -- by you. This is the primary reason you are only now regaining consciousness, my boy."  
  
Before Severus could do more than open his mouth to protest, Madame Pomfrey swept in from the corridor, bringing with her a breeze laden with the most wonderful scent he'd ever encountered. He scanned the Infirmary, using every last trick in his repertoire as spy to locate the heavenly aroma, but to no avail.  
  
"Severus, it is good to see you awake." Poppy sat lightly on the bed next to her patient's hip, running her wand across his torso. "Almost as good as new, which is nearly unbelievable considering how badly you treat your body."  
  
He snorted at her -- it was the best her comments deserved.  
  
"Poppy, how long do you intend to keep me here?" Severus asked in his most impatient tone. He was mildly perturbed when his audience gave him dual stares of dismissal.  
  
Turning to the Headmaster, Madame Pomfrey firmly stated, "Albus, I should like to speak with Severus privately. You may return after dinner."  
  
Not even the great Albus Dumbledore dared argue with his mediwitch when she issued orders in that tone of voice. He bid Severus farewell and made his escape.  
  
The Infirmary doors had barely closed when Poppy turned back to face a very bemused Potions Master. "Severus, something quite odd has happened. I have had ample opportunity over the past twenty-five years to memorize your medical scans, to become familiar with your blood type and body mass, to intimately recognize your magical signature. However, since you were brought back from the final battle, there are significant differences in each of those vital aspects of your makeup."  
  
Eyes rolling toward the ceiling, Severus counted to twenty -- in ancient Sumerian -- before asking, "Get to the point please, Poppy."  
  
"As you wish." She ran nervous hands down her apron. "You no longer register as fully human."  
  
By the time the mediwitch could cast sufficient silencing spells, half the school had heard their Potions Professor's tirade.

~ * ~

  
The Headmaster hurried back inside the Infirmary as soon as Poppy had released the locking spell on the door. He felt that he was the only person capable of calming his Potions Master. And of course, there was the well-known fact of how nosy he was -- if there was to be a 'situation', he wanted to be in the center of it.  
  
Sweeping through the hospital wing, he swiftly made his way over to Severus' bed, a soft breeze following his flowing robes. It didn't escape his notice how the recently revived wizard's nostrils flared for a brief second, but he chalked that response up to Snape's years as a spy, taking in every available bit of information via each of his senses.  
  
Poppy made an effort to intercept his course, firmly admonishing, "Albus, now is not a good time for your meddling. Surely you have more important things to deal with than loitering in my ward!"  
  
A harsh snort from the bed seemed to agree with the demand. "Yes Headmaster, please leave at once. Your precarious grasp of sanity is contagious."  
  
And with that tantalizing hint, Dumbledore was promptly (and forcibly) hexed out of the wing.  
  
Turning back to her rather irate patient , Madame Pomfrey tried once more to speak with Severus. "Really now, there's no need to take this attitude with me. It would make the most sense that whatever has caused your... _remarkable_ transformation began due to the last confrontation with the Dark Lord." She gave him a stern glare to rival one of his own. "Therefore, you cannot blame me for this situation, and you would do well to remember that. Honestly Severus, I am doing my best for your welfare. The least you can do is to work _with_ me, instead of fighting every step of the way. The sooner you acknowledge that your circumstances have changed, the sooner we can find out what exactly has occurred."  
  
Severus sniffed reflexively in disdain, then paused with his mouth open, on the cusp of spewing more vitriol. His eyes darted across every surface of the ward, searching for... some elusive aroma. He wasn't in the position to witness how his eyes glowed for a brief moment, but the Matron saw and carefully took note of the new information.   
  
"Poppy..." he began, then paused once more to breathe another deep gulp of air. His mind leapt to the only logical conclusion he could formulate on such short notice. "What in the world are you doing with my potions, woman? After all the backbreaking hours of labor to keep your supplies full, here you are adding flavoring to them? Since it appears to have slipped your memory, let me remind you that adding any sort of sucrose-based substance to healing potions will effectively nullify their basic properties. We can only pray that the few remaining days before term will be slow for you-"  
  
"What in this world are you talking about, Severus? I haven't added anything to your precious potions!" Incensed and ruffled, the mediwitch whipped around the room to apply her own senses. And came up with nothing out of the ordinary. She drew out her wand and prepared to cast more diagnosis spells. "You must have done more damage to your cerebral matter than previously thought. Now hold still and let me-"  
  
From the farthest end of the ward, a soft voice whispered across Snape's nerve endings, at once calming and heightening his awareness. "Madame Pomfrey, is there a problem?"  
  
Poppy offered an exasperated glare at one patient before making her way to the second. "Well, I see you are finally back amongst the living. Here, sit up and I'll bring you a few replenishing potions and some juice."  
  
The blasted woman's interrogation trailed off as she moved to the other end of the Infirmary, allowing Severus to catch single word responses in that so very distracting voice. Now that he had another focal point, he also realized that the previously confusing scent was coming from the same direction. He couldn't see who Poppy's other target was with her full skirts in the way, but he felt... _drawn_ to the shimmering golden-green aura that flickered in a vaguely human-shaped cloud around the bed. He sighed, resigned to yet another puzzle he truly didn't have the energy to deal with, but was helpless to avoid.  
  
And speaking of energy.   
  
Between the shocking news of his _in_ humanity, his rather forceful outburst, and the magnetic pull that both baffled and irritated him, Severus' body made an executive decision : his eyes closed, his body resumed its prone position, and his mind was shut down. Whatever curious ailment or curse had him in its grasp was in charge, insisting that he rest and recuperate before he took on the numerous questions plaguing his recovery. 

~ * ~

  
By the time Madame Pomfrey returned with his meal and medication, Harry had pushed himself into a sitting position and had located his professor's sleeping form. He didn't even realize how long he'd been staring at the surly wizard until a softly cleared throat broke through his concentration. Shaking his head to dispel the odd feelings and thoughts that wouldn't quite surface (but still managed to drive him to distraction), Harry offered a weak smile to the mediwitch.  
  
"I must apologize for Professor Snape's outburst, Mr. Potter. As long as I've known the man, I should have anticipated his reaction and taken proper precautions."  
  
His lips twitched up into a full grin. "You don't have to apologize for that, Ma'am. I've spent the last six and a half years on the receiving end of some of his "greatest hits of snits". Besides," he looked up at her with wide eyes, a trick that almost always worked on Hermione and Mrs. Weasley when he wanted information, "it sounds as if he has a good enough reason to throw a tantrum. Anything I can do to help maybe?"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey hadn't worked so long for the most renowned magical boarding school without learning a few tricks of her own. She knew the young man hadn't been awake until after Severus' _tantrum indeed_ fit was well into incoherent accusations, therefore Harry didn't have a clue of the subject matter involved. However, she did give him full points for his acting skills, and just maybe...  
  
"Perhaps you can help, Potter. I must attend a meeting this afternoon, and was dreading leaving the two of you to your own devices for the length of time I suspect it will take to decide that nothing new has happened since the last interminable meeting." Her eyes rested briefly on Snape before focusing back on Harry to give him the same visual examination. "If you are feeling up to it, I would greatly appreciate your efforts. I'll leave a supply of the appropriate potions and a list of instructions, but it is doubtful that Professor Snape will wake before I return. In the event that he does, you'll give him the potions and perhaps offer juice or water, then take yourself back to bed for the same treatment. Neither of you are in a dangerous condition at the moment; you just need rest and a bit of quiet. Do you think you can handle the task, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry's gaze had drifted back over to the supine teacher's body during Poppy's instructions, and he guiltily nodded to her. "Yes Ma'am, that shouldn't be a problem." A one-shoulder shrug. "And I'm used to being the target of his bad moods, so nothing he can say will really bother me."  
  
"Very well, I'll be back in a few minutes with the potions and notes." She had more to say, but one look at the rather fixated young man made her reconsider. Patting his leg, Poppy wandered back into her office and collected the appropriate vials, jotted down thorough (if simple) instructions, and returned to find Harry in the same state. Staring at Severus as if the boy had never seen his instructor before. _How odd._ Followed a split second later by astonishment. _Oh dear Merlin, please don't let Harry have developed a crush on Severus! They're more likely to kill than to kiss... and where did that thought come from? I hope there's plenty of tea and cakes available -- between them, I'm going to need every last bit of my strength to keep from putting them into a deep healing sleep._

~ * ~

  
_Chapter Two :_  
  
After Madame Pomfrey swept out of the Infirmary on her way to the staff meeting, Harry waited at least five full minutes to make sure there were no interruptions. No nosy Headmaster. No well-meaning friends. No cleverly hidden house elves. His body protested as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, but that could be ignored... All his instincts told him that something dramatic had happened to his professor, and Harry felt a deep compulsion to investigate.  
  
_Yeah, and every other time I've had this urge it's turned out so very well._ He snorted softly, only barely managing to muffle the sound before it could awaken the older wizard. _Careful there, mate. Bet he sleeps light, wand under his pillow and ready for attack. Not that I can blame him for it. He might be a right bastard, but I have to admit that he's finally proven which side he's on. Doesn't mean he's likely to ask questions before hexing though._  
  
On bare feet, he crept across the ward to Snape's bed. The closer Harry got to his target, the stronger he felt that pull to be near the dark wizard. Before he realized how far he'd come, his thighs connected with the foot of the bed. His whole body tensed, waiting for Snape to wake up and yell at him, but nothing happened.   
  
It was the perfect opportunity for a thorough examination of his dreaded professor. Snape, unconscious and probably drugged to the gills, with no one around to forbid the inspection. Only a thin, short-sleeved hospital gown covered the man's chest, with a single sheet pulled up to his waist. One finely boned foot stuck out from under the white cotton cover, drawing Harry's attention to the occasional twitch of his toes.   
  
_He doesn't look so mean, so angry, when he's asleep. Though there's not much 'at peace' about him either. I wonder what kind of dreams he has... nightmares maybe, regrets and what if's. Has he invented a potion to prevent them? Maybe not a Dreamless Sleep, but something to turn nightmares into more pleasant things? But no, he wouldn't waste his time on such a **mundane** project. Snape seems the type to say "learn to deal with your inner demons, Potter" instead of spending months, maybe years, creating a potion to alleviate night terrors._  
  
The fingers on Snape's wand hand flicked, as if he was casting a spell in his sleep. His lips moved in silent incantation, and his eyebrows shifted into a frown. Afraid of being caught, Harry stepped back toward the supplies left by the mediwitch and collected the appropriate vials. Just as he turned around to retrace his path, a flash of movement caught his attention -- Snape's head swung left and right against his pillow, nearly thrashing into it. Harry sensed a rising panic in the older man that might well herald even worse dreams. He sprinted the dozen steps back to the sleeping wizard's side in time to prevent the professor's ill-timed dive off the bed.  
  
"Woah, careful there, sir. It's a long way to the floor... don't want you to hurt yourself." Harry kept his words quiet and calm, even though with a double armful of Potions Master, he was feeling anything but peaceful. He pushed and pulled, trying to convince the limp limbs back onto the mattress, but the blasted man was every bit as stubborn in his sleep as in a classroom. "Work with me here, Snape. I can't help you get comfortable without a little bit of assistance. And Merlin, what've you been eating? You look thin as a skeleton, but you must weight as much as Ron."  
  
A whispered response halted Harry's attempts. "Nothing like a Weasley."  
  
Breathing a huge sigh of relief that just maybe there was still sanity left in the greasy git, Harry snickered and had to agree, "No, thank the gods, you aren't anything like Ron." He gave one more shove, finally getting Snape back onto the center of the narrow hospital bed, then stood back to survey his work. "Although... if you had more of a sense of humor, you and the twins would have a fair amount in common. For all their pranks, they're both brilliant with potions work, charms too."  
  
"No time to pranks anymore, you daft bugger." Clearly, he was not yet fully alert. Stern Professor Snape would never stoop to schoolyard name-calling, would he? "Thirsty."  
  
The gravelly request prodded Harry into action. He retrieved juice and glass, potion vials and Madame Pomfrey's slip of instructions, and was back at Snape's side in short order. "Here we go, sir. May I help you sit up a bit? Afraid we might make a mess if you don't."  
  
It felt more than a little odd to be manhandling his Potions Master, but even worse was the man's obvious weakness. Of the seven years Harry had known the man, he'd never seen Snape show any signs of sickness or injury beyond a slight limp or cranky fatigue. To top it all off, the older wizard was utterly silent -- and _that_ was enough to unnerve even the most stalwart of Gryffindors.   
  
Given the chance to study his temporary patient, Harry took stock of what he felt were the most suspicious indications of the man's condition. Slack features (except for a slight frown), where normally a sneer was present. The stiff, upright posture that swept Hogwarts' halls was completely absent, replaced by this... limp noodle. But beyond those telling signs were the little things that just didn't add up : Half-lidded eyes that followed his every move, but lacked their standard criticism. Nostrils in the prominent nose that seemed to be _sniffing_ him, almost like a dog scenting some stranger. Fingers that kept twitching randomly, only now they weren't grasping for a wand; they appeared to be fighting the urge to grasp _him_. Every little shift Harry made was tracked, documented, and filed away... making the teen feel decidedly uneasy, like an insect under a microscope whose only future was a short engagement on the dissection tray.  
  
Finally Snape was propped up against several pillows, glass of juice in hand, and Harry was free to step away from the bed. He wanted to offer more help, food or fluffing or something, anything to get the man's eyes _off_ of him! "Sir, Madame Pomfrey left instructions that you are to have these potions when you wake up, and since you're awake now you should probably do what she says, because you know how she gets when her patients don't mind, and would you like something to eat, won't take a minute to call Dobby or one of the other house elves for a tray..."  
  
The hand not currently occupied by a goblet lifted enough to stop the stream of babble. "Potter, unless there is a headache remedy on your list, perhaps you would be good enough to cease this display of inanity. I will accept the Matron's dubious cocktail of potions, and yes, you may call for a light meal." Snape laid his head back against the bedframe, visibly exhausted. "And... thank you, for your assistance," he choked out the expression of gratitude. Accepting each of the four vials, he slung them back with practiced ease, sipped the rest of his juice, and closed his eyes.   
  
Harry was nearly convinced the man had fallen asleep again. An assumption that had him jumping a foot in the air when he was caught staring. Snape opened one eye, took in his student's position, and asked mildly, "Well, are you planning on standing there staring at me all day, or carry out your offer of calling for food?"  
  
He was half way to Madame Pomfrey's office before he heard the dry chuckle from a sleepy (but amused) Snape.

~ * ~

  
_Discretion is the better part of valour... I know I've heard that somewhere, but it never made much sense until today. What in bloody hell is he trying to pull? Loud and bitchy I can handle. Quiet and bitchy isn't that uncommon. But this... almost **friendly** , or at least not antagonistic, it's enough to make me paranoid._  
  
Harry paced the office while he waited for a house elf to return with his teacher's tray. Oh, he could return to the ward to wait, but that would force him to see and hear more of this abnormal version of his least favorite instructor. Somehow, between that last meeting in the Headmaster's tower and the time they'd both been brought back to Hogwarts Infirmary, something odd had happened to Severus Snape.   
  
It wasn't just that the man had yet to yell at, scream about, belittle, or condemn Harry... His entire aura seemed different. Not that Harry had much practice with reading magical auras, but this was a tangible change. Like adding dark blue paint to pale yellow, and ending up with an odd shade of grassy green. _And it's been how many years since that particular accident in Aunt Petunia's sewing room?_ The violent shudder evoked by that memory told him in no uncertain terms that decades would pass before he could forget the harsh words and harsher beating he'd received thanks to that mistake. _For pity's sake, I was only **six**!_  
  
Regardless of how strange and worrisome Snape's present behavior was, anything would be better than recalling his years with the Dursleys.

~ * ~

  
Snape was quite willing to admit that he might well be hallucinating. What other reason was there for this new fascination he felt toward the annoying Boy-Who-Lived?   
  
He had woken shortly before Potter arrived at the foot of his bed, laying quietly so as not to alert the young man to his conscious state. Every sweep of those too-green eyes caused a tremor of tiny electrical pulses to run down his spine. And when the boy first touched him it had only gotten worse.   
  
Potter offering comfort hardly set well, especially when every last word out of that impudent mouth had called to him. A symphony of soothing tones, harps and chimes, flutes and strings, combined to wrap Severus in a cocoon of peace that was entirely foreign to his existence.   
  
Another perplexing incident was the distinctive scent that seemed to exude from him. _I might owe Poppy an apology... not that she's likely to hear it._ Severus' first passion was potions, as any fool with eyes could see. The occupation had encouraged his naturally sensitive sense of smell, almost to the point that he no longer needed to visually examine his cauldrons for testing -- a quick sniff gave him much of the information on a potion's status. He had made an honest error in accusing the mediwitch of tampering with his potions, for what else could possibly have such a potent and alluring aroma? _Only Potter, of course. He's been the singular exception to so many rules for most of his life, why not this as well? No human gives off such an intoxicating natural fragrance._  
  
Snape's head whipped upright so fast that he cracked his skull on the headboard. _No **human**! If the backlash from Voldemort's final death can cause me to be altered so dramatically, then it is entirely possible for the same to have happened to Potter._ His mind leapt from clue to clue, leading him to a series of logical assumptions. He knew full well that there was more information to be gathered before accepting any possible conclusion; however, when A plus B equaled C in so many steps...  
  
_I didn't hear any sort of transformation spell prior to losing consciousness, but that means little. And for the love of Merlin, why would anyone want to turn Harry Bloody Potter and me into non-humans? It's enough that the boy survived his prophecy. Hell, it's a sodding miracle that **I** survived his prophecy! To be somehow connected by yet another set of circumstances with the nuisance... salt to an open wound._  
  
His agitation grew with each passing moment. Unfortunately, he couldn't decide where to place the blame for this most recent disaster. _Albus is the most likely suspect, of course. His sense of humor needs to be pruned with an out-of-control cutting curse. It would be just like him to think it a riot, linking me and the boy, and making us believe there was no discourse but to get along. Oh, there is a slight chance that any random Death Eater could've gotten in a lucky shot... but if this is truly happening to us both, the laws of probability are against it. An even slimmer chance is for Poppy to have misdiagnosed the problem. No, not in all the years I've known her has Poppy Pomfrey mistaken a single curse, ailment, illness, or other medical condition. Which leads me back to Albus._  
  
Severus contented himself with formulating a wide variety of vengeful acts against his employer while he waited for the boy to return. Only the most clever were kept, with a hastily summoned quill and parchment taking notes. He was a good two feet down the scroll when Potter finally returned with their meal. For they would be sharing, it seemed. Two bowls of soup, a plate of sandwiches, a large jug of juice, and a decent selection of fresh fruit nearly overflowing the tray made it clear that the elves had previous instructions on how much and how often they should be fed.  
  
Exchanging a weary glance with his student, Severus picked up his spoon and began to toy with the slivers of chicken swimming in a thick broth. "It would appear that Madame Pomfrey expects us to gain a stone or more before we are dismissed from her care." Dazed green eyes widened, but the boy nodded and started tackling his half, as if sheer determination could conquer the mountain of edibles. No further conversation rippled the silence that fell between them, each doing their best to finish their portion.  
  
Much, much later, Severus would realize how... soothing the boy's presence was. 


End file.
